


2 Miles Over

by Kierkegarden



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Driving, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Police, Speeding, Unhealthy Cigarette use, past-Codywan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: When Officer Ben Kenobi's cop car is down for maintenance, he flags cabbie Anakin Skywalker to help him collect it.





	2 Miles Over

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! The original plotbunny was for a Sith!Uber AU, but I'm mighty glad I ended up writing this instead. Obi is the world's worst cop, he lets pretty distractions get in the way of his devotion to the law. I don't condone four cigarettes in less than an hour, and I quite like both types of music.

Ben looks at his watch. 11:30AM. Typically around this time, he would be doing highway patrol along the I-95. It’s only been a day since the head gasket blew on his trusty Crown Vic but it feels like it’s been way longer. Crinkling the clingwrap from his sandwich into a ball, the officer sighs. Ben doesn’t like to go without his car. It’s imperative to his work and sitting around the station has him moody. He throws it towards the garbage can.

The guys at Fett’s Garage said his car would be ready for pickup at twelve thirty, but Ben knows that they often overshoot it. He’s known the Fett family for years, in fact, has lived here since Jango himself worked auto repair instead of managing the business side of things. Rex was in his graduating class and he took Cody to senior prom. That was - _God_ \- over fifteen years ago. The thing about small towns is that they hold memories better than sponges hold water. He hasn’t seen Cody since the boys took over the family business, seven years ago. He hasn’t been to Fett’s in over five.

He decides to swing around early.

“Officer Kenobi,” Sergeant Windu nods as he passes, “Need a lift?”

Ben looks up at him gratefully but shakes his head, “I think I’ll get a cab, it might be a while.”

The Sergeant slaps him on the back, “Buck up, Ben. She’ll be running again in no time.”

 

The first cab that arrives swings towards the corner of 5th and Main so dangerously that Ben jumps back, suddenly awake again. As he gets in, his ears are greeted with a the staticy whine of Def Leppard’s _Pour Some Sugar On Me,_ and his lungs with air that's thick with smoke.His nose stops mid-wrinkle as he gets a look at the driver.

The one hand that _is_ loosely attached to the top of the steering wheel is prosthetic, tapering into skin at the elbow - which is certainly a violation of some safety code. The other rests out the open window, a cigarette loosely tucked between two fingers, and is certainly a violation of some health code. The driver’s hair falls in loose waves, golden brown, his smile so bright and wild that it should be illegal too, Ben thinks.

He eyes Ben with interest, pulling the cigarette towards his lips to take a final drag and then tossing it downwards out into the street. _That’s three citations_ , Ben thinks, _and we haven’t even starting driving yet._

“I’m Anakin with Sunset Cabs,” the driver’s voice is lazy as he looks Ben up and down, “where will I be taking you this afternoon?”

“Er,” Ben remembers how to form a sentence, something with which he is usually incredibly gifted, “Pleasure to meet you, Anakin. My name is Ben. I’ll be going to Fett’s Garage.”

“You got it, Ben,” Anakin pulls out another cigarette, swinging the car into motion with such violent force that Ben feels like he’s going to be sick, “Mind if I smoke?”

 _You’ve already been smoking,_ Ben wants to say, _which is in direct violation of a health code._ He has friends who work down in the health department, he could probably figure out the exact name and number for such an infraction. Instead, he says nothing, just nods and turns to look him in the stupidly gorgeous face. Anakin’s eyes are contained oceans, and a thin pale scar runs down the right side as though it’s separating a shoreline. Something about his devil-may-care attitude inspires nautical metaphors. Not sandy beaches, but crashing tides.

“What’s at Fett’s Garage?” Anakin asks him with interest, after another drag.

Ben cringes, as the cab makes a right onto Poplar, sans turn signal. This is a school zone. Is Anakin aware that this is a school zone? He’s going over fourty.

“Oh, my car is in the shop. I’ll -” his breath hitches sharply, as Anakin slams on his break at the crosswalk. A cluster of junior high students race across. Ben entertains the thought that they are probably cutting class and shouldn't be here anyway. He's horrified with himself for thinking it. - “You know where it is, right?”

“I could drive there with my eyes closed!” Anakin exclaims, and at this point, Ben is half expecting him to prove it, “I used to work there, actually. Before...” He trails off, looking at his prosthetic. Ben thinks it wise to change the subject.

“The Fett family are old friends of mine,” he offers, “I went to school with Cody and Rex.”

Anakin’s eyes scrutinize him and Ben wonders if Anakin would be too young for him. “I’ve never seen you stop in before.”

“Yes, well,” Why does Ben feel the need to explain himself? He’s never met Anakin before in his life and will probably never see him again, “I haven’t been back for a while.”

Anakin finishes his second cigarette in a few more deep drags and closes the window, his second hand joining the first on the steering wheel. The car whines to the tune of _Poison_ by Alice Cooper, as it whirs up a gear. Ben feels his body smack backwards into the seat. Disgruntled, he decides that Anakin’s charm has officially worn off.

“Has anyone ever told you that you listen to midlife crisis music?”

Anakin’s eyes snap into focus. “By all means,” he gestures to the audio console, eyebrows shooting up, as the cab merges onto the highway. Anakin zips between lanes, challenging other cars to race with his eyes. One blue mini-van comes within an inch of them, horn blaring. That was intentional, Ben thinks. Do all cab drivers drive like this? He finds the local college radio, midway through a Lumineer’s song and keeps it.

“Don’t smoke with the window closed.” Ben’s eyes shoot daggers towards Anakin’s hand which pauses on its journey to the box of Marlboro Reds between them. He wonders what the health insurance is like for cab drivers. Anakin responds by speeding up, now ten miles over.

“Has anyone told you that you listen to organic free range barista music?”

Ben would smirk, but he’s too busy fighting nausea. If he was a religious man, this is when he would pray.

“Are you not worried about getting pulled over?”

It’s kind of a case study, Ben thinks. He rarely gets to see traffic violations from the inside and typically, kids like Anakin feign innocence in the hopes of getting away with just a warning.

“Do you see any cops?”

Ben tries not to glance at his own face in the side mirror.

“Whether you're in the presence of a cop or not, you really shouldn’t speed, Anakin. Especially when you’re responsible for a stranger’s safety.”

“Oh come on,” Anakin’s eyes roll back, as he slows down ever-so-slightly, “You’re lucky that your face is so attractive because passengers lecturing me is my pet peeve. Do you want to get there quickly or not?”

“I’d prefer,” - _He thinks my face is attractive,_ Ben thinks, through his stern expression, “to get there. Period. In one piece, preferably.”

Anakin flicks on his turn signal, pulling into the exit lane, and Ben beams.

“Fuck the police,” the driver shoots Ben a knowing look. Is this really how people talk about police officers? Ben suddenly feels exposed as he nods shakily.

“I…I do think most cops are just doing their best to uphold the law.”

“Yeah, whatever, cops are the worst,” Anakin brings his forefinger to his mouth this time, in the place of a cigarette and _God_ , does this boy have an oral fixation? Ben feels himself flush, imagining those lips around something else, “I bet you’ve never broken a law in your life.”

“Never,” Ben can feel his eyes twinkle, “Not one.”

His mind flashes with memories of his senior year of high school, he and Cody out on his grandmother’s farm, with a bowl of weed and a bag of Lay’s potato chips. His boyfriend’s lips still tasted like salt the next morning when he came to Ben’s bedside with freshly brewed black tea and lemon. It’s been a long time since Ben has seen Cody. 

 

Anakin pulls into a parking spot at Fett’s Garage, just  _slightly_ over the line. As the car shuts down and the music stops, Ben feels his breath return to him. His nose fills with the familiar scent of grease mixed with the juniper bushes that grow along the front lawn of the property. He opens the door.

As he gets out of the car, he notices that Anakin does too.

“Anakin!” Cody walks briskly towards him with a smile, clasping his body in a hug, “It’s been forever! And…” his face falls, as he looks over at Ben, but not in a sad way. It’s a wistful sort of smile, forgiving and kind, “Officer Kenobi.” 

Ben smiles back, giving Cody a hug. “Good to see you, Cody.”

As they break apart from their embrace, Cody ushers the two of them into the small office.

Out of corner of his eye, Ben sees Anakin’s jaw drop. He’s looking from Ben, to Cody, to the Crown Vic that is parked under the half-roofing of the maintenance booth and back to Ben with the cornered recognition of an animal that has walked into a trap.

“Officer…” he repeats, quietly, dumbfounded, “You’re a cop.”

Ben lets his pace fall in line with Anakin’s. “That’s right.”

Anakin seems to pale another shade, as they enter the office, side by side. Rex is waiting behind the counter. He eyes Anakin and Ben and scratches his shaved head.

“Now there’s a surprise,” Rex punches something into the register, handing Ben a printed list of all of the adjustments made to his car, “What a small world. How long have you two been --”

“Thank you.” Ben smiles warmly, saving Anakin from having to answer, “It’s good to see you again, Rex.”

His old friend salutes him and wisely doesn't press it.

 

When they step outside again, they are alone.

“Please,” Anakin’s eyes are wide - an ebbtide, Ben thinks - “If I had known you were a cop, I would have never…”

Ben leans against his car, writing something that is no doubt giving Anakin heart palpitations. The blue ballpoint swivels across the page as he signs his name, folding the paper twice and pressing it and his fare down into Anakin’s hand.

“I’m not going to issue any citations today, Anakin,” Ben wipes his forehead on his sleeve, “Open it when you get into your vehicle.”

Anakin’s face floods with relief. “Oh God, thank you so much.”

 

The paper feels damp in Anakin’s palm as he lights up one last cigarette, arm resting out the open window. He holds it in his teeth as he uses his organic hand to pull the folds and flatten the note on his steering wheel.

 

He reads.

 

_Anakin -_

_If you still want to "fuck the police" as you so tactfully put it, now's your chance._

_276-885-0907_

_Looking forward to your call,_

_Ben Kenobi_

 

Anakin grins, revving the engine, and dials the radio back to Rock 95 FM. When he speeds out of the parking lot, it's at a record low, only 2 miles over.


End file.
